


Lestrade and the Dragon Sherlock

by pocketbookangel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Complete, Dragon Sherlock, First Kiss, M/M, Sherstrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 15:43:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5545631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketbookangel/pseuds/pocketbookangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Greg must slay a dragon in order to become king.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lestrade and the Dragon Sherlock

In the old days, princes were usually set some impossible task to complete before being allowed to ascend to the throne. By the time Prince Greg was ready to go adventuring, most of the impossible tasks in the world had been completed.

“How impossible were they if they’ve all been done?” Prince Greg asked, frustrated. He’d had his heart set on being king.

“There’s always dragons,” the Prime Minister suggested.

“Extinct,” the Chancellor of the Exchequer said, a little smugly. His grandfather had been Chancellor when the last dragon had been slain and he had been made a baronet for finding a loophole that allowed the royal family to avoid paying taxes on the dragon’s hoard.

Fortunately for the prince, reports of missing sheep and toasted cottages were brought to the castle by distressed peasants from the northern marches.

“Dragons! A fearsome dragon, my lord! It ate my best dairy cow, then told me the flour mark on my wife’s shoulder meant she’s been having it off with the miller during market day.” Over the next few weeks, more news of missing farm animals and inappropriate personal comments reached the palace.

Armed with a magical sword and a theoretical knowledge of dragon anatomy, Prince Greg set off to rid his kingdom of the dangerous beast.

He rode for seven days and seven nights, stopping only to share his lunches with elderly travellers and to offer help to younger sons who were out on quests of their own. He also saved a cat that had climbed too far up a tree. Later, the cat proved to be a very good friend to him in a time of need, but that is not part of this story.

The northern marches had a desolate and wild beauty that Prince Greg was unable to appreciate because his mind was occupied by thoughts of the dragon. How would he find the dragon? Why was killing a dragon an impossible task? He began to gather evidence of the dragon’s trail: bits of wool smeared with blood, quarrelling couples.

The dragon had made his lair in one of the ruined castles that had been built by Prince Greg’s ancestors. The stones were strong and carried powerful, ancient magics, but the northern winds were cold and installing modern plumbing hadn’t been possible, so the entire court had moved to a milder climate.

The dragon was twice the size of a man, glittering black and deep blue scales, fearsome claws and heat that burned the air. Prince Greg got off his horse, unsheathed his sword (+1 Charisma, not really needed when you have a title and a handsome face), and started to walk towards the dragon, which observed him warily.

“Have you come to kill me?” the dragon asked.

“I think so.” Prince Greg tried to remember what his dragon book had said. The usual method was to trick the dragon into flying around so you could stab at the unprotected spot near its heart.

“Well, get on with it then.” The dragon rolled on to his back, and Prince Greg saw a pale opal of fragile skin surrounded by impregnable scales.

Prince Greg considered the situation. “I think you might be faster than you look—before I get to you, those claws will tear my head off.”

“You’re not as foolish as you look, Prince Greg.”

“How did you know my name?”

“It’s my business to know what other people don’t. You’re obviously not a peasant, the middle classes haven’t emerged yet, so you must be royalty. The old king has been dead for more than a year, anyone who goes in search of a dragon must be a questing prince.” The dragon rolled over, pleased with his own cleverness.

“I would like to be king.” Prince Greg raised his sword. “Avaunt, foul beast and trouble this land no more!”

“That’s not necessary,” the dragon said. He knew he was stronger than the prince, but Fate was usually on the side of princes, not dragons.

The festivities around the coronation of King Lestrade lasted almost a month. Everywhere he went, jubilant crowds turned out to see their king and the dragon he’d tamed. The dragon trotted along next to the carriage, occasionally flying over the king’s entourage and exhaling multi-coloured flames over the crowd. It was beautiful.

Once King Lestrade settled into his castle, the dragon moved to a cave a few hours away by carriage, a few minutes away as the dragon flies. He would summon the dragon to the castle whenever he needed a trustworthy advisor to sniff out a liar or a fire-breathing mythological creature to impress foreign diplomats. The king’s subjects loved the dragon, but the Prime Minister and the Chancellor of the Exchequer regarded him with suspicion, believing that he had never lost his habit of snacking on other people’s livestock.

One night, the king awoke to find a naked man in his room. The man was tall, with tousled dark hair and strangely familiar grey eyes. As there was no obvious hiding place for a weapon, the presence of the handsome young man was very welcome. The king hadn’t had much private time to pursue romance.

“Who are you?” King Lestrade asked. He sat up, letting his robe slip off his shoulders. It didn’t seem fair for only one of them to be naked.

“I never did tell you my name, did I? Sherlock Holmes.”

The king would have known that voice anywhere. “You’re the dragon—you’re the bloody dragon!”

“Not always bloody.” Sherlock looked a little offended.

“How are you human? And where’s your clothing?”

“I’m under a curse. On the thirteenth night of every third month, I become human. Many years ago, in the time of your grandfather’s grandfather, I correctly deduced that an alchemist was not, in fact, changing lead into gold, but was engaging in some sleight of hand. Unfortunately, he did have real magic powers, as you can see.” Sherlock moved to the window. “It’s time. I just thought you should know.” Sherlock leapt out the window, and the king watched as a dragon took to the skies.

The next morning, the king rode out to the dragon’s cave, tormented by what he had seen the night before. To his surprise, a small cottage had been built next to the cave, and a few drowsy sheep nibbled at the grass outside.

The dragon crawled out of his cave. He hissed a little at the sight of the king, which made the sheep tremble. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk about last night. What’s this?” the king pointed at the cottage.

“That’s John’s cottage. John!” the dragon roared.

The cottage door opened. “Sherlock, how many times do I have to tell you, use the bell. The sheep are going to become neurotic if you keep roaring like that.” John saw the king standing in front of him. “Er... sorry, your majesty.”

“Who’s he?” the king asked.

“I told you, he’s John. Did you actually have something for me? I’ve a very busy day, no time for all this talk.” The dragon retreated into his cave, grumbling about foolish humans.

“I’m John, your majesty, I mean, sire.” John knew he was supposed to bow or kneel or something, but he’d never had a reason to follow the rules of royal etiquette before. “I take care of the sheep, go to the shops. He’s really not very good with people, you know.”

As the months passed, the king became accustomed to seeing John at the dragon’s side. At first, it bothered him, but John was always up for a pint after the diplomats left, and the dragon was slightly less brusque when John was around.

On the thirteenth night of the third month, King Lestrade once again found a naked man in his room. This time Sherlock was waiting next to his bed.

“I just thought you should know, John has never seen this,” Sherlock said. His kiss, imperfect and human, yet edged with dragonfire, was hot against Lestrade’s skin.


End file.
